I clear my throat. “You, too. Look good, I mean.” Great start to this business meeting, my inner voice groans. I straighten my shoulders and gesture toward the living room table, which I’ve laid out with what I have so far: three full eyeshadow palettes in complimentary colors, as well as individual pots of more daring colors to sell on their own. “The merchandise is over here, if you’d like to take a look.”
Lark’s smirk only widens at my sudden professional shift in tone. But he steps into the room anyway, letting me close the door behind him, and after a pause, he takes a seat on the couch. The couch almost swallows him whole—it’s ancient, and the cushions have lost any supportive abilities they once had.
“Sorry,” I murmur, coming around the far side of the couch. I don’t have any other chairs in the living room, but I make sure to perch on the farthest cushion from the one where Lark is sitting, just to be careful. “This sofa’s seen better days.”
He snorts. “I’ve seen mattresses in alleyways that have seen better days, Cassidy.”
“Yeah, well, not all of us can afford to live in luxury penthouse bachelor pads,” I grumble, and he smirks at me.
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it. It’s got character.”
“Character is code for ugly, and you know it,” I reply, rolling my eyes. But I’m grinning now, too.
“Only if you think pretty things have to have no personality.” Lark shifts a little closer to me on the couch—not that it’s hard. With the way the cushions sag, we’re both slowly sliding toward the center of the thing, an inevitable progression. It feels like the universe trying to throw us together once more.
I’m determined to resist it.
I reach out to grab one of the color palettes and practically shove it under his nose. “Here. You can be my first tester.”
He laughs, holding it up to the light. “Not my shade, I don’t think,” he teases. But his face softens as he actually studies the makeup. I watch him take a small amount, spread it across the back of his hand, then turn it this way and that to admire the colors.
After a moment, he surprises me by standing and pacing over to the window.
“Natural light,” he says over his shoulder. “It helps to see better.”
“I know.” I smile, watching him. “I just didn’t realize you would.” There’s something absorbing about his expression when he’s concentrating. Like he’s stepped out of this world and into the inside of his own head. It makes me want to know what’s going on up there. To burrow inside and spy.
“I wouldn’t have, a couple weeks ago.” Lark returns to the sofa, apparently satisfied now. I can’t help but notice that when he takes a seat again, it’s far closer to me this time. Close enough that our thighs bump against one another, the warmth of his leg searing through mine, electrifying my entire body.
Fuck.
I’m in trouble.
“You aren’t the only one who’s been busy the last couple weeks.” Lark catches my eye. We’re so close that in my overbright apartment lighting, I can see the individual flecks of yellow scattered through his green irises. I can see the way his pupils dilate ever so slightly, as we hold one another’s gazes. “As soon as we signed your contract, I started to research makeup design and color theory. Just the basics, of course. I don’t have your eye.”
He hands the palette back to me, and I take it, our fingertips brushing as I do. His hands feel strong as ever, and the sensation sends fireworks through my veins.
“You’re very talented, Cassidy,” he says quietly. “Even a novice like me can tell.”
“Do you always research every new company investment you take on?” I ask, my own voice coming out soft too. Or was this one different? I don’t ask that second question. It tiptoes too close to asking what I really want to know.
Have you been thinking of me as much as I’ve been thinking of you?
“I try to, yes.” Lark’s eyes jump back and forth between mine, studying me. “It’s good practice to understand some of what you’re putting your money into. But…” He glances down at where our legs touch on the sofa. Back up at me. “There are some companies I take more interest in than others, I have to admit. Some businesses that seem more… promising, to me.”
“I see.” I swallow, my throat feeling far too tight. “And does the potential for success of those businesses have anything to do with your… ah… personal biases, by any chance?”
He laughs, a low undercurrent that sends fire through my veins. “I should think so. Everything is personal, Cassidy.” He reaches up. There’s a stray strand of hair I hadn’t noticed, come loose from the ponytail I put my damp hair into earlier. He brushes it back off my shoulder, his fingers lingering against the bare expanse of skin there, because I wore a tank top today, so stupid, I should have worn something more covered up.
A whole sheet over my body, maybe.
Even then, I get the feeling Lark would have been able to reach me through it.
“Especially business,” he murmurs, his face barely inches from mine.
My breath is unsteady in my chest. My whole body feels like it’s vibrating, eager to lean into his, to surrender to the desire that’s been coursing through me, unrelenting and trapped, for weeks.
“I thought you told me you learned not to mix business with pleasure,” I reply, my voice a barely-there breath. But he hears me anyway, the corners of his mouth edging up into a dangerous smile.
“Guess I’m a slow learner,” he says. Then he leans in, and God help me, I do the same. His lips collide with mine, searing hot, and his hand reaches up to cup my cheek, his fingers buried in my hair.
I groan into his mouth, and he grins against my lips, pulling back just far enough to rest his forehead against mine, gazing into my eyes.
“I haven’t been able to get you out of my damn head for weeks, Cassidy Marks.”
The sound of my name in his mouth thrills me. Sends sparks dancing in my veins. “Me neither,” I admit. “I should have—I wanted to, but—” I fall silent when he kisses me again. This time, I sink against him, let his free arm snake around my waist and pull me closer. At the same time, his lips part against mine, and his tongue tangles with my own, forceful, claiming.
I relinquish control. There’s a sense of relief in it, in finally letting myself fall, when I’ve been struggling to hold myself back for so long.
My hands slide up over Lark’s chest—God, I forgot how fucking muscular he is—and loop around his neck, tightening.
In response, he shifts in his seat, and in one smooth motion, drags me across the couch until I’m straddling his lap. This time he’s the one who groans, his lips vibrating against mine with the sound. As my legs sink into the soft cushions to either side of his lap, I can feel a solid press against my inner thigh.
He’s already rock fucking hard.
My belly tightens at the knowledge that I have the same effect on him as he does on me. It seems impossible to me, and yet here he is, unable to keep his hands off me. Unable to forget about me, the same way I couldn’t forget about him.
Somewhere in our entanglement, I feel something brush my shin, and glance over. Unable to help it, I laugh.